125 miles in 8 hours and now I’m back with my odds and even. Some genius had told that life is about odds and even, so far I have to agree him. After all 125 miles is odd and 8 hrs is even; odds and even of my journey back to Kathmandu. I was swapping from the life I love to the life I hate. And the transition took me 8 hours. The streets of Kathmandu were already dusty and the mornings were foggy. The bus dropped me in Kalanki and I was already wishing the next date to ride it back. I was thinking ‘Why didn’t my hometown hold me more than a month?’
I came to my room get off my luggage and start planning another inning of my life in Kathmandu. The same old routine and pissed off life. Is this all about my next inning? No it can’t be so I called few friends to start with.
Friend No.1
‘Hey dude, where are you?’
‘I’m home; I will come after 2 day’. The answer made me sick. ’shit man, I had nothing to do here’. I hung up the phone.
Friend No.2
‘What’s up? I’m back, let’s chill out’
‘Sorry man, I’m busy now’. He hung up the phone.
Friend No.3
‘What you up to? Are you free?’
‘Yea, I’m free when did you came back’
‘Hello, Hello, I didn’t hear you’
‘…….Totototototo’. Network Busy message got displayed in the mobile screen, I tried many times but call couldn’t get connected. So that’s it, find something to get yourself busy with. The instant thought came to my mind; why not go for the tea? I put on my woolen cap, muffler, jacket and gloves and headed toward my favorite road side tea shop. After all, the climate of Kathmandu won’t let you walk lightly in these winter evening.
Pulsar 220cc swept me to the drench as if some Japanese Sinkansen (Bullet Train) had passed through. My luck, it was winter so no water in the drench otherwise I would have messed all my clothes. I was cleaning dirt off my clothes, I heard the continuous clonking of horn. I looked and it was Pulsar 220cc.
‘What?’ I showed him what he did to me. The guy pulled viser of his helmet up and started shouting.
‘Don’t you know how to walk in the street?’ he was furious. ‘You blind fool’.
The second comment really got into my nerve.
‘What!!’ I walked out of the drench and hurried to the bike. ‘And now you’ll teach me how to walk, what you think huh, is this your father’s road’.
The guy rotated the accelerator and drove away. I turned to the footpath and then only I realized I got some spectator.
‘You had a narrow escape boy, better watch the road when you walk’ the women trying to lit the fire in front of the meat shop was giving me advice.
Few feet away another woman was chasing a kid who was playing Chungi.
‘I told you don’t play in the street, are you blind that bike almost killed someone’. She grabbed the kid in the arm and gave the nice slap in the chick and walked away shouting herself. The boy was stunned. He was stretching Chungi with both hand and looking me with tear filled eyes.
I realized he was trying to say ‘What are you looking at? Aren’t you satisfied now?’ I felt guilty for the boy.
‘I owe you that slap dear’ that’s what I wished to tell him but I couldn’t gather the guts. The women turned back.
‘What are you staring at? Will you go and do your homework or should I give you another’. The kid preferred the first choice, put Chungi in the pocket and disappeared behind the black gate. And I preferred pulling off myself from there. Few block away in front of the grocery shop the crowd was circling the carom board and couple of old fellows were standing facing toward me. They both seem to be in their sixties, both folding hands around the chest and vapor was blowing from their mouth like a smoke.
‘These days’ kids, we can’t handle them’, the one in gray jacket was expressing his concern.
‘This bike will kill many kids, I say college students shouldn’t allowed to ride a bike’, other guy with the black muffler passed his comments. Both pair of eyes marked me while I walked past them.
The same Tea Shop with same old setting of white dolphin diner. The shopkeeper got a pound or two of fat loaded in the belly in last one month. That maybe because of the meat he ate in Dashain.
‘When did you arrive?’ He was reluctant to welcome his old customer.
‘Just today, How are you dai?’ I fulfilled the formality.
‘One milk tea’. I ordered dragging a chair and being seated.
The shopkeeper lit the gas stove, drew the water from the plastic gallon, and poured the water in the pot. ‘Jharrrr’ the sound that came while pouring water in the pot disturbed the silence of the shop. I was staring him without blinking an eye. The image of the kid with Chungi was playing in my mind. His innocent face and tear filled eyes, how could he ever forgive me for that slap? I was wondering myself. He put tea, sugar and milk in the pot and turned toward me.
‘How was your Dashain- Tihar?’ He tried to resume the conversation.
‘Fine, nothing interesting left about Dashain-Tihar, it used to be fun when we were kids but now nothing exciting’.
The sip of hot tea was not making me warm. The cold chill of guiltiness was freezing me more and more. The more I think about the boy the more I was forgetting about almost getting myself killed. I knew I had a narrow escape but that was not bothering me. It was 6:30 and the light went off.
‘See now we got new schedule of 56 hrs power cutoff’, the shopkeeper was lighting the candle.
I hurried and finished the tea, pulled Rs. 10 from the wallet and gave him. He gave me two toffee. I knew his: ‘Sorry I don’t have a change’ style of doing business so I took the toffee and headed home.
The streets were dark. The headlight of bikes those drove time and often were the only source of light. The shops were dimly lighted with candle. I walked slowly toward the drench that saved my life about an hour ago. Carom board was abandoned and the grocery shop was empty. Couples were getting themselves warmed in the fire lit in front of the meat shop. I stretched my neck to look inside the black gate, but it was empty. The face of that kid had haunted me that night and couple of times later this winter. I’m trying really hard to get him off my mind.
